The End of an Error
by Pchew
Summary: No one expected him to snap, but they should have. It was only a matter of time before everything became too much. Can Alfred be helped in time to save the world? More importantly, in time to save himself?
1. We Are All to Blame

AN: Hi. I was originally planning to upload a OP one shot next, but this was on my mind and therefore the idea was part of my dream last night. Iggy needs to get up outta my dream land. Yeah. Anyway, here, have some more BrokenBridges Alfred abuse. I really haven't got the slightest idea why this particular muse stalks me so...but whatever. You read now, da?  
>I own jack shit OAO<p>

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><p><em>A white light engulfed everything. The heat of a thousand suns over came whatever crossed its path. Nations watched as their people screamed and cried out for mercy, but there wasn't any to be found. This was the end, and they weren't part of it. Above the chilly air a laugh was heard. It was heavy and dark, so unlike the tone it used to carry.<em>

_Finally, the light faded into nothing, taking the entirety of Eurasia with it. Still the fallen stood, counting their numbers and checking for lost parties. Thankfully, none had disappeared among the flames. But a celebration was not to be had. They all knew why their kind had survived when their lands obviously had not._

_They had to watch the world end._

_From the depths of the ashes walked a single figure. It was tall, muscled, and familiar. As it advanced on them, the laughter grew louder and louder. When it stopped, the others could make out a black t-shirt, jeans and sneakers, topped with an all too familiar bomber jacket. _

_His face was still hidden from them, and that frightened the survivors more than anything._

"_Am- Alfred…" a British accent whispered. _

"_Yes, Arthur?" _

_His voice, once so carefree and childish, was husky from the smoke and venomous with under lying anger. Somehow, though, it still sounded calm._

_He stepped from the shadows further, revealing a tanned face hidden behind sunglasses rather than his usual wire spectacles.. The American was smiling, as always, but the gleam of those white teeth through the thick air held no promise of heroism. _

_Arthur spoke again, clinging to those beside him for support, "Why, Alfred? Why would you do this to us? Your friends and family? We've done nothing wrong…."_

_Alfred's body went rigid, but his demeanor did not change. Instead, the young blond removed his sunglasses, and wiped them on his shirt, forcing a hollow laugh from his abdomen._

"_Answer me!"_

_With a sigh, he looked up, giving the others a glimpse of rare seriousness. Blue eyes bore into their very soul as he spoke._

"_Nothing wrong you say? That's funny. You want to know why, Arthur? Because I was tired. I was tired of the insults, the cold shoulders, and the vast amounts of general hatred you all hold for me." Upon seeing their confused faces, his smile faltered and his eyes lowered, _

"_I'm not as stupid as I look. I know how you all feel about me. You call me a superpower, but you treat me like a child. Every single one of you know what I'm capable of, but to you assholes, I'm just a source of amusement. Young, naïve, fat ass, America." _

_He looked back up, eyes now hurt as he stared at Arthur and Francis, "And you two, the men who raised me and my brother from infancy, led the pack. But I'm not surprised; Matt always was the favorite. He's the good son. He never fought back, he never woke you up at three in the morning with nightmares, he wasn't Alfred. And no one likes Alfred."_

_A deep breath._

"_But I can't really hold that against him, can I? It's not his fault. Besides, he's my little brother and I love him dearly. I still love you guys too, you know, but you never have loved me. I was always just a troublesome little piece of land to you. A profit…a toy…family isn't exactly the word I'd use…" he trailed off._

_Arthur had never felt lower in his life. It was no secret to anyone that the northern twin was the preferred son, but to hear it come from the southern one's own mouth, to hear the self loathing, the heartbreak, the scared childishness that the words were spoken with broke his heart beyond repair. So he did all he could do now; he fell into his neighbor's arms and wept for the child he had abandoned._

_Francis, who was near tears himself, spoke next, "Amérique, mon cher, we never knew… why didn't you tell us?"_

"_Because you wouldn't listen."_

_The Frenchman choked back a sob, and held the small Brit who was now shaking in his arms, "But…but what does this have to do with the rest of them? They are your friends!"_

_Alfred's smile had completely fallen by now, his face contorted to a scowl. He let out a shallow "ha" before continuing his little speech. _

"_Friends? You call these people my _friends_? Maybe at one point I could have- no, wanted too say that they were, but not now. I have helped their sorry asses in countless wars and struggles, never asking for anything in return, and yet, they always side against me. These bastards want nothing more than to see me fall from grace so that they may laugh at my corpse." _

"_I'm a game to them: whoever hits America the hardest while he's down wins a prize! Spin the wheel, see what kind of mass destruction you can cause. Will it be a bombing? A betrayal? Perhaps a terrorist attack? If you're lucky, will you break his heart?"_

"_Don't get me wrong, some of you," his eyes traveled over the huddled mass of nations, "I still care for deeply, but someday, you'll go after me too. It's how the world turns. Just as the seasons change, so do alliances. Friends become enemies, enemies become friends and the cycle repeats."_

_No one could speak as Alfred finished. No matter how much they didn't want to believe it, they knew he was right. _

_Arthur continued to seek comfort in his lover as the world fell into a dusty silence. All America ever wanted was peace amongst the nations. He wanted them to be friends with each other and him. He was just an idealist with a big heart._

_And they had condemned him for it time and time again. _

_They were fools._

_Everything faded to an eerie black as the island nation came to his conclusion. One by one, the others faded away. Soon, it was just him, alone in the darkness._

"_Arthur…." a voice said. _

_The ex-pirate looked up, startled. Nothing was there._

"_Help me, Arthur," it said again._

"_W-what the hell?" _

"_Help me…Don't let me fall, Arthur…"_

"_A-Alfred?"_

"_Don't let me become him Arthur….Don't let me become that monster. I don't want to be the villain, Arthur…Help me."_

_And there was no more.  
><em>

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><p>AN: Okey. First part done! Not much else to say except for "review please!" See you next chapter. :D<p> 


	2. Innocent

AN: I meant to have this up like, two weeks ago. Sorry ;w; My plot bunny was, still is, actually, AWOL. I'm afraid this update will have a fillerish vibe to it, which kills me. But, hey, it's something. Right?

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><p>Arthur Kirkland was tired.<p>

He thought back to his dream from the night before and shuddered. Had they really pushed America that far?

No, no, of course not. His imagination was getting the best of him. He just had to push the memory aside and concentrate on getting ready for the meeting.

The meeting…Alfred would be at the meeting.

Sighing, the ex-pirate continued preparing, letting his mind wander to his ex-charge. The boy had been rather quiet as of late, speaking less at meetings, and just fading into the background like a ghost. Sure, it gave the others some time on the floor, but it couldn't have simply been a new found consideration. Not like this. There were other signs too, smaller things, but did it really mean something was wrong?

"_Help me Arthur."_

Green eyes blinked. Speaking of Alfred, there was that voice again, but he wasn't still dreaming.

Was he?

A pinch to the face told him that he wasn't. Arthur sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair.

"That boy will be the death of me."

"Don't die Arthur…then there won't be anyone left to catch me."

Once more the little voice interrupted him, but it was different this time. Playful, almost, but still frightened.

He looked around, "Alfred?"

Out of the corner of his eye Arthur saw movement. It was a just a flash of gold, quick and small. He turned, trying to follow it.

"Who's there?"

"Arthur…"

"D-don't you come near me! I'm a Mage!"

"Magic isn't real, Arthur…"

The small man deadpanned, definitely Alfred. But where was he?

"Alright, I know you're in here, lad. Show yourself."

The voice didn't respond, so Arthur resorted to looking. Blast it all, he was going to be late if this kept up.

"Alfred, please, I don't have time for this."

"You never have had time for me, England…"

He stopped, taking a moment to try and ignore the guilt, before following the sound. It seemed to be coming from the corner of his room.

"Al…"

"No…don't call me that. Just…please…._help me._"

The voice sounded tearful now, but louder as Arthur approached the corner. Once he got there, he was floored by what lay before his eyes.

It was America, not as he was now, as a grown man, but as he was then, as a child.

And he was almost completely transparent.

"A-Alfred? Is that you lad?"

The boy nodded, "I came for you help, Arthur."

"God Save the Queen," He was beginning to question his sanity, "My help?"

Another nod as he wiped a few tears with his sleeve, "Something isn't right, Arthur. With me. Big Me."

"But you're colony sized, why not have, um, 'Big You' come to me?"

"Because I don't know….don't want to know."

"I don't understand, boy."

"Big Me won't admit anything, because he loves everyone too much. It's the other's, Arthur, the others are killing Big Me. Making Big Me sad. We don't like to be sad, Arthur."

The Brit understood then, his dream the night before, now this ghost of Alfred's childhood. It all made sense.

"Alfred, child," He said, "Did you send me that nightmare as a warning?"

The child looked at his feet, hair covering his scared blue eyes, "Yes'r."

Arthur couldn't help but smile. Believe in magic or not, it surrounded Alfred, past and present. Suddenly, his gaze widened and shot to the clock. Good, he still had at least twenty minutes before the meeting started.

Just enough time to find him.

He turned back to the apparition in front of him, "I'm going to help you, don't worry."

With a careful glance around, the boy began to fade.

"_Hurry, Arthur…"  
><em>

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><p>AN: I'm sorry if something didn't make sense here. PM me and I will try to answer any questions, but not all. Some things are like that for a reason. So... I'll see you all next time! (Hopefully it won't take as long)<p> 


	3. A Friggen Note

Monkey fuck…I thought I'd never have to make one of these.

I'm afraid TEoAE won't be updated for a while. I've been a little ill lately and it's taken a toll on my plot bunnies. No plot bunnies, no inspiration. No inspiration, no updates. No updates, no happy readers. Speaking of readers, I haven't been getting the feedback for this story as I like and that's a little unnerving.

But enough of my excuses and complaints. They accomplish nothing :T

I promise that I haven't abandoned you all. I absolutely REFUSE to abandon a story. Ever. I couldn't do that to you few guys who have reviewed, faved, alerted. Updates will continue…I just don't know when. Could be as little as a few day, or as long as another month.

I'm really sorry, really.

-BB


	4. All American Nightmare

AN: I LIVE! OMG I wasn't expecting to get a chapter up this soon, but I was reading something today (don't even remember what, because I win) and got major inspiration. (And an inhaler, which means I won't die now. woo -w-) thank you guys so much for your understanding reviews. Normally I wouldn't have uploaded an AN like that, but I was afraid that a new update would take a lot longer than this. Anyway, here you go. Warning: Alfred's mouth and not as much Arthur. I still own nada, btw.

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><p>He had found him. There Alfred was, simply sitting on a park bench not five minutes from the meeting hall.<p>

Arthur thanked the God he wasn't sure he believed in.

The American's head was tilted back leisurely towards the sky, arms propped along the back of his seat. All in all, the young man looked peaceful.

But as Arthur approached his former protégé, he began to get the feeling that something was wrong.

Very, _very_ wrong.

"Alfred…" he called, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.

One ocean blue eye opened just a crack, staring at the shorter man a moment before speaking.

"What is it? I didn't do anything this time so just go away."

The Brit blinked a few times, put off by Alfred's cold greeting, but still managed an answer.

"Y-yes, well…"

Alright, not so much of an answer as a muttered fail.

Sighing, Alfred raised his head, locking their eyes. Arthur couldn't repress a shudder that formed upon seeing the superpowers expression.

"What?" the American said again.

Something was indeed very, very, _very_ wrong with Alfred.

The boy's eyes were just as blue as ever, but instead of their usual warm sky hue, the orbs were now hard and rigid, like ice. But those cerulean gems weren't what frightened Arthur, what scared him was the fact that they were on the same smiling baby face as before.

Eyes like that didn't belong on such an innocent face.

"I-I just wanted to make sure you remembered that we had a meeting today," Arthur nervously checked his watch, if only to avoid those eyes, "In less than ten minutes, to be exact."

Alfred sighed once more, sounding rather annoyed at the thought, "Alright," his gaze softened slightly, "If we have to."

The smaller man nodded, and the pair walked back towards the hall. All the while, Arthur's worried green eyes continued to travel from the path to the teenaged nation beside him.

Eventually, Alfred caught on.

"Artie, why do you keep staring at me like that?"

The young gentleman startled, "I..Are you okay, America?"

As they opened the door to the meeting room, Alfred nodded.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seem a tad off, lad. That's all."

The tall blonde shrugged, taking his seat, "You're imagining things, Arthur."

The Brit didn't believe that to be the case, but accepted the answer anyway, turning his attention to their host.

"Alright, everyone, let's begin," Ludwig said.

And so the meeting went on. Nations bickered about their issues, as usual. In fact, everything was going as always, until France spoke up.

"Mon Dieu! Be quiet. You heathens are going to wake Amerique."

That's when everything stopped. The others slowly began to realize that the usually exuberant nation had been absent from their conversations from the start. They turned their attention to Alfred's chair, where the blond was, in fact, sound asleep.

"Ve~ I thought Mr. America never slept!"

Obviously, Feliciano was wrong. Alfred was out cold.

"Is he okay?" someone asked.

Ivan, being the closest, leaned over to inspect his long time rival. Sure enough, the young man was breathing, which caused the Russian to mentally curse, and he seemed unharmed. Everything about him was the same.

"Da," he said, "He is perfectly fine."

"Well this simply will not do!" Francis chimed in again, "I will have to wake him!"

Arthur, who had been watching quietly, stared, fearing that this wouldn't end well.

Everyone watched curiously as the Frenchman went to nudge the slumbering nation. Before he could make contact though, a soft _click_ was heard, and a pistol was in his face.

Alfred's head was still nestled in the crook of his other arm, and he did not look up as he spoke.

"Francis," he said, "If you so much as touch me with those dirty hands of yours I promise I will not hesitate to blow your brains out and use the blood to dye my sneakers."

No one dared to move. That voice was not America's. He was supposed to be jubilant; always smiling, always laughing. That voice was neither. It was dark, blood thirsty, and evil.

The older blond backed away quickly, before turning to Arthur, who merely continued to stare at the angry man in front of them.

"America! What is the meaning of this!" Germany screamed.

Alfred raised his head then, causing everyone in the room to take an involuntary step back. His mouth was rigid, scowling almost, and his glasses had slipped down his nose, giving them all a very good look at enraged blue eyes. The same eyes England had seen earlier.

"Nothing at all, Kraut. Nothing at all."

As Alfred go up to leave, a hand grabbed his jacket sleeve. He turned around quick enough to break any normal person's neck and stared at his captor.

"Let me go, Matthew," he snarled.

The Canadians eyes widened, Alfred never spoke to him like that! But it wouldn't make him release his hold.

"N-not until you tell us what's wrong, Al."

A laugh, "You really want to know, little brother?"

Matthew nodded.

"Well that's too fucking bad, favorite."

Alfred turned to leave, then, but stopped when his twin's hand still refused to let up. The older growled deep in his throat, as if to warn the younger, before grabbing the Northerner's wrist and forcing him away like he was piece of lint.

As Matthew narrowly avoided slamming into a chair, his eyes began to water and his voice trembled.

"A-Al…please, let us help. Something isn't right with you."

Showing no remorse for the action he just committed, Alfred smiled darkly, "You bastards have done enough."

"But you slept all day! How could anyone do anything to you when you're not even all here?"

Alfred laughed again. It was hollow, and dry, "Trust me on this one, Matt."

Then he walked out the door.

As they watched him go, Matthew sank to his knees, sobbing. Francis tried to comfort him, but couldn't stop his own tears from forming. Arthur watched the door swing close, fear rising in his chest.

_I've failed you, Alfred…_

His nightmare was coming true.

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><p>AN: What's that phrase about "don't wake the sleeping giant" or something? Yeah. You get the idea (: Until next time, my lovelies.<p> 


	5. Behind Blue Eyes

AN: Chapter foooooooouuuuuuuuuuur. Wow you guys are eating this story up like it was a hamburger! Yay! I'm afraid there isn't any Arthur in this one, which is why you'll see the summary has changed a little. The way the little map in my head is leading me, it won't be just Iggy doing anything about Al. Yeah. Anyway, have some brotherly angst. (:

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><p>Matthew had never run so fast in his life. The second that his brother had left the conference room, the younger blond had taken chase. Arthur had looked like he wanted to as well, like he knew something the curly blond didn't, but Matthew didn't have time to think about that. He had to find out what was wrong with Alfred. This behavior wasn't his brother.<p>

It wasn't his Hero.

Up ahead, the Canadian could see his twin's retreating form, so he called out.

"Al!"

The other didn't so much as turn around.

"Alfred please! Come back!"

Still the American didn't acknowledge him; Matthew was on the verge of tears again.

"Alfred! Frére! _Please_!"

Finally, the young man stopped.

"What do you want Matt?"

Matthew came to a halt a couple yards behind his brother, panting slightly.

"I want to know what's wrong with you! What the hell was that back there?"

Alfred sighed, and turned to face the younger nation. His head was hung low, wheat bangs hiding his normally bright blue eyes. Everything about the superpower seemed hardened, even his favorite bomber jacket looked old and warn. No light nor luster were to be found anywhere.

After a long silence, Alfred spoke, "That, my dear little Favorite, was the outcome of two hundred and thirty five years worth of hate and misery."

Matthew's indigo eyes blinked innocently. As far as he had ever known, Alfred didn't have it in him to hate anyone. Every single fiber of his being was dedicated to making life better, even if he did have an odd approach to it.

Unable to contain his curiosity, Matthew voiced these thoughts.

Alfred laughed hollowly. God, how terrible it sounded.

"Then you've known wrong, little brother."

With a shaky hand, Matthew reached out and grabbed his brother's identical one, "Then help me to know right, America."

The older boy didn't retract his hand, much to the younger's relief, but he didn't look at him either. Instead, he removed his glasses and wiped them on his shirt as he spoke.

"I was acting before Hollywood was even thought of, you know."

"I..I'm afraid I don't understand, Al."

"It's an act. Everything that I am is a ploy."

"Al…"

The taller blond cut him off, "It started when we were little. Arthur and Francis always liked you the best. Still do. 'S why I was so rambunctious and out spoken. It was how I got my attention from everyone."

Matthew's face fell further as his twin spoke, but he never let go of that hand, "N-never mind, Al…y-you don't have to e-explain…"

The American wasn't listening.

"Then, when my growth spurt hit, it gave me an idea. Maybe, just maybe, if I left, I would be free."

"And you were!"

Finally, Alfred's blue eyes met Matthew's, and the latter was shocked at what he saw.

Those cerulean orbs were red rimmed, like Alfred would cry, but no tears fell. Instead, the eyes narrowed hatefully.

"No, Mattie, I wasn't. I'm not."

"You aren't making any sense, Al!"

At this point, Matthew was becoming frightened for his brother. Of his brother.

"Yes, I am. I didn't leave because of Arthur's treatment, Matt. That was just the cover I chose to accept," a single tear now fell, "I left so I wouldn't have to watch anymore. I figured I could become my own person, make the world my oyster, and I did. But I suppose it all backfired in the end. Arthur hates me now, you resent me, and Francis could care less about anything that concerns me," he looked off into the distance, "And there's no point in an oyster when you choke on the pearl."

Matthew didn't want to hear anymore.

"That's not true Al! I could never feel anything bad towards you! Not for real!"

"Your constant need to belittle me speaks for itself, Canada."

The curly haired boy paused and thought. It was true he had once made his twin cry with his passive aggressive attitude, but to be fair, the other had disserved it.

As if reading his mind, Alfred spoke again, "I know I can be an ass, really. And I don't mean too. Not always. That's just part of my power. Part of me. But you know what, little brother?"

"W-what?"

"Sometimes I like it, the power, I mean. It's brought empires to their knees, made the greatest rulers fall, and showed the world what I'm capable of. Too bad they forget easily."

Matthew could only nod. Alfred had had a certain presence about him since they where merely babes, he could light up a room, or he could destroy it. He could make every tooth in your head appear with a grin, or disappear with a fist. But the kinder side was all anyone ever saw. Until now…

In his musings, the young nation almost didn't hear the American continuing.

"For almost two and a half centuries, I've taken it. I've taken the insults, the fights, the cynicism, the pure _disdain _that the others hold for me. They want nothing more than to watch me fall and burn. And I can't handle it anymore," he looked back to Matthew, face contorted with emotion, "Now, I'm done."

"D-done?"

Alfred's eyes darkened to an icy blue-gray, "Done. Run, Favorite, run and deliver a message for me. Say the game is set. Tell the world that America is through pretending to be a hero. They never wanted one anyway."

As he finished, the young superpower tore his hand from his neighbor's grasp, turned, and left.

Matthew watched him go, replaying everything in his mind before making his way back to the jumbled mess of a meeting. He tried desperately to remember the boy he had grown up with, the one who laughed and smiled with him. Who had taught him how to be noticed, and who taught him how to live.

Had that boy died so easily?

Maybe Matthew didn't want to know right after all.

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><p>AN: AH! Poor Maple...Shit's about to go down. I'm finally updating fast! Go me! Let's see how long the next one takes~ Also, thanks to Trisl for giving me the idea for this chapter. There's more people to thank (several, in fact, YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE), but I don't want to take up any more note space than I need to so...bye! I LOVE YOU ALL!<p> 


	6. Hero

AN: Um...all I gotta say is that prepare for a journey through Alfred's twisted little head. It's dangerous to go alone, take this! *hands Kumajirou plush* Anyway, there's a lot of swearing here. Yeah.

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><p><em>Fucking Matt…just because we're twins he thinks he knows every damn detail of my life. Ass hole is lucky I love him so much. Too bad for the others though…oh well.<em>

Alfred stared out the window of the plane, lost deep in thought. As soon as he and Matthew had finished their little "talk", the American had headed straight for the airport. Meeting forgotten.

He would be home in a few hours, home in his small apartment where all he had to worry about was what the next step of his plan would be.

All he knew right now is that they would pay.

Every single one of them would _pay_. Not in currency, but it blood.

Alfred was a fighter by nature. And he knew just how much that nature collided with his friendly personality. Sure, his bosses would often want to try and solve America's problems by taking the neutral or verbal approach, but the nation himself had always thought it a stupid approach.

"If you can't make them your friends, make them your targets," he'd say.

The young man laughed softly to his self as he continued his thoughts. Blue eyes vacantly watched the ground below pass by and soon, Alfred found himself slipping into a dream.

_Everything around him was barren ash. Nothing could have survived that attack. All of Eurasia was surely decimated. The only things left, where the shells of those who used to be the land. _

_He wondered where the were now…_

_Alfred stood there, quietly taking in what he had done. In the past, the young nation would feel just a hint of guilt about such a violent deed, but not today. Now, he found himself with the smallest of smiles forming on his chapped lips. That smile grew and grew, until finally, the American began to laugh._

"_It's done!" he giggled, "It's really done!"_

_Not really expecting a reply, Alfred jumped ever so slightly when he heard a small whimper. _

"_What the hell?" he said._

_Another cry echoed through the thick air, causing the superpower to raise a single blond eyebrow curiously. Still chuckling silently to himself, Alfred went to investigate._

_As he made his way through the fog, the young man could just barely make out several hunched and abused figures._

"_Well," he thought aloud, "Guess that answers the 'where'd they go?' question…"_

_In front of him sat those he had sought to destroy. Everyone from England to China and those in between sat on the burnt ground at his feet._

_Alfred laughed harder._

_He saw their heads turn to him, having now noticed his presence. A mixture of eye colors stared at him, and he stared back almost innocently._

_Almost._

_He still couldn't keep the shit eating grin from his face._

_Kneeling down, Alfred cupped the cheek of the closest nation, Kiku._

"_Hello, Nihon, did you like my present?"_

_The island's dark eyes began to tear as he looked up to his once friend, but he found he was unable to answer._

_Alfred huffed, tanned cheeks puffing just a little, "I'll take that as a no, then. So rude."_

_When the smaller man still refused to speak, Alfred became irritated. Still holding tight to Kiku's face, the American pushed him back with all his might, thus forcing him into China._

_The old nation began to scream._

"_Stop it! This is madness, aru!"_

_Alfred laughed again, half tempted to reference one of his movies, but ultimately decided against it._

"_Madness? Not at all, old man. This is fun!"_

_He watched all their faces descend further into a state of horror upon his comment, but he didn't care._

_He hadn't cared in a long time._

Before he could dream any further, a soft hand shook Alfred's shoulder.

"Sir? Sir…we've landed. Everyone else has already gotten off."

Blinking, he looked up to the smiling face of a stewardess handing him his carry on.

"Oh, thank you."

As he stood up, a small maple leaf shaped key chain fell from the bag.

"Heh...guess Matt stuck it in there when I wasn't looking."

When his thoughts returned to his nosy younger brother, the American's face darkened.

"Little shit probably delivered the message by now. I bet their planning something to stop me," he picked up the trinket, almost crushing it in his grip, "I'll love watching them try."

"Sir?" The stewardess called, "Are you okay? You seem a little dazed."

Alfred turned to her, smiling like he always did, "No ma'am. I'm alright. Sorry."

Gathering his things, the sturdy blond couldn't help but laugh add a small comment under his breath.

"Yeah, I'm just fucking _super_."

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><p>AN: Cookies to anyone that gets the movie reference or the ending. Shirtless nation of your choice if you get both ;D TTFN, ta ta for now~<p> 


	7. Know Your Enemy

AN: Hi o3o Sorry this one took a little while. Plot bunnies ran away again. I really need to put a lock on their cages. I'm afraid this chapter is short, but oh well. A chapter's a chapter. Enjoy it (:

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><p>Matthew refused to accept anything Alfred had said before leaving. Never in their lives had the older twin acted like that.<p>

Fueled by fear and heartache, the northern nation did the only thing he could think of.

He ran straight back to the conference room.

Everyone stared as the young Canadian barreled through the doors. Matthew was _not_ one to behave so outrageously.

_"Francis! Francis! Aidez-le! S'il vous plaît!"_

As his once colony broke into hysterical sobs in his arms, the Frenchman exchanged looks with the rest of the nations before looking down at the distraught boy.

_"Matthieu, mon chère, aider qui?"_

"Alfred!"

Francis heard Arthur gasp behind him, and looked over his shoulder.

Neither could say anything.

Turning his attention back to Matthew, the older blond began stroking the teenager's hair, trying to comfort him.

_"Bébé, ce qui vous fait penser votre frère a besoin d'aide?"_

Teary blue eyes shot up to meet Francis's own scared ones.

"T-that was not my brother. My brother wouldn't tell me what I just heard!"

Stepping forward, Arthur pushed the Frenchman out of the way and placed a shaky and on Matthew's shoulder.

"Love, please, tell us everything."

The younger man nodded. He knew that as much as he didn't want to, he had to let them know what happened.

Clutching Kumajirou closer, he started his tale, "I-I chased him down, ya know, a-and then I got him to talk after a little begging…."

Everyone watched the Canadian as he spoke, each one taking in the information in his or her own way. Some were stony faced, others seemed confused, and the rest were a mixture of sadness or fear.

The story seemed to last forever to Arthur. Merely the mental image of Alfred saying such things to the person thought closest to him made the old Brit's heart ache. But nothing compared to the feeling that hit upon Matthew's next words.

"T-then he said, 'Arthur hates me now, you resent me, and Francis could care less about anything that concerns me…' I told him to stop after that…he kept going, though…"

The ex-empire's world almost caved in. For a second, he forgot which twin was standing in front of him and almost screamed how wrong that phrase was. But, the sight he caught out of the corner of one emerald eye stopped him.

France was crying.

Arthur knew the older man had seen him notice his distress, but neither made a move. They needed to hear the end of this.

"He sent a message for you guys. I guess I have to deliver it now," the shy boy said.

Everyone froze in an instant, hanging desperately on Matthew's next words.

The Canadian took a deep breath after pausing, and in a voice far too close to Alfred's, said, "Say the game is set. Tell the world America is done pretending to be a hero. They never wanted one anyway."

No one knew what to do next. So they began to discuss a strategy.

"Ve, what kind of game?"

"One we can't win, Italy."

"We have to do something, aru!"

"Like, he's a damn super power, China! We're totally screwed!"

"Ivan, you've fought him one on one before, what do we do?"

"This is different, comrade."

As the other nations worked themselves into a frenzy, Arthur and Francis excused themselves from the room, the latter still teary eyed.

"Angleterre, how can he think those things of us!"

The shorter man sighed, staring at the floor beneath them, "Why do you think, frog?"

France knew the old nickname was to keep up the illusion of normalcy, but it didn't help the guilt welling up in his chest.

"It is because we've given him every reason too, isn't it, mon ami?"

Arthur could only nod as his own eyes began to water.

A small cough behind them alerted the two men of a new presence. The pair turned slightly too see Matthew; face half buried in his bear, standing there.

"Matthieu, how long have you been there?"

"L-long enough," wide eyes hidden by glasses stared back at the Frenchman before moving to his British companion, "I-it's not just us Al's mad at though, the whole world's fucked him over pretty bad."

If the boy hadn't been right, Arthur would have reprimanded him for his language, but instead, he locked arms with his neighbor and put on a brave face.

"Gentlemen, I believe it's time to try and correct these errors."

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><p>AN: I hate the ending...but it was the best I could do. And in case you haven't heard, this story is also on DA for you non-FF clients, and I have fanart! It's on the profile. Go lookit. :D<p>

Translations:

_"Francis! Francis! Aidez-le! S'il vous plaît!" - "_Francis! Francis! Help him! Please!"

_"Matthieu, mon chère, aider qui?"- "_Matthew, my dear, help who?"

_"Bébé, ce qui vous fait penser votre frère a besoin d'aide?" -"_Baby, what makes you think your brother needs help?"

Bye now~


	8. One Step Closer

AN: Eee chapter time! This is one of the longer ones I've had in a while. Go me!

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><p>The nations were stumped. After the three blonds had walked back into the room and told the rest of them everything on a more understandable level, any and all debates had ceased.<p>

None of them had any idea what to do. After all, how do you fix a mistake that took lifetimes to create?

The more innocent nations, like Sealand and Latvia, had suggested that they simply go apologize to the irate American.

But, as sweet as the thought was, they were quickly shot down. Apologies didn't work at times like this.

Other, more active nations, figured that they should just eliminate Alfred and be done with it. Kill or be killed.

That solution was denied as well. It would cause more problems than it solved. America as a nation was far too valuable to be taken out of the system.

As more and more ideas were thrown around, a phone rang.

Arthur slowly reached into his pocket, trying to figure out who would be calling him at a time like this. When he pulled out his cellular and looked at the ID, all blood drained from the Brit's face.

"Everyone! Quiet!" he yelled.

Upon receiving several hateful looks, he elaborated.

"It's Alfred."

No one dared to so much as breathe.

Cautiously, Arthur flipped his phone open to answer it.

"A-America, why are you calling, poppet?"

"What? I don't get my one phone call? I just wanted to see how shit's going without me. Put it on speaker, will ya Artie?"

The superpower's voice sounded like it always had, and that worried the older nation. Either his ex-colony was schizophrenic, or he was more forgiving then they thought.

And Arthur highly doubted the latter.

"Artie?"

"Oh, yes, of course."

Pressing the appropriate button, the green eyed man sat the phone on the large table before them, watching the others' worried expressions peripherally.

"Alright, Alfred, go ahead."

"Hiya, bastards. Miss me yet?"

The American's voice was condescending now, but it held a lighter air than it had when he had left earlier.

"America, are you insane! I'll ask this again, what has gotten into you?" Germany hollered.

A chuckle on the other end, "Maybe just a little bit. But nothing's gotten into me."

"Then explain your behavior this evening!"

"…Didn't Matt already do that?"

"I-I tried Al," the younger twin piped up, "But they want to hear it from you."

Another laugh, hollow this time.

"Nice, dude. Nice," a pause, "Shucks, guys. I didn't think y'all were this stupid! I'm just out for a little revenge, that's it."

Japan pushed his way to where he knew America would hear him, "Alfred-san, we know we have done you a great dishonor, but please, let us make it up to you."

A scoff. "Dishonor my Florida, Nihon. You jerkwads have fucked me over so many times I'm pretty sure my ass is raw."

Several nations blushed. America always had had a way with words.

Arthur sighed; they were never going to get anywhere like this.

"Alfred, lad, please. This is too much. What can we do to make it up to you?"

"Hmmm….that's a good one, ya old Lobster," another pause, "I would say you could all go die in fire, but I suppose we can try to talk something out. No use wasting good nukes just yet. Though, fire still sounds good to me."

No one knew whether to cheer or be further worried.

"So, Amerique, you are willing to discuss this like adults, then?"

"I'm only nineteen, Francis, I'm sure 'adult' is the best way to describe things. But whatever floats your boat."

"As long as there are no more pistols pointed at my beautiful face, anything will, as you say, 'float my boat'."

A real laugh sounded this time, one sounding like the America everyone knew.

"I promise nothing, but okay! Be at my house tomorrow evening. We'll do this then."

A click sounded, signaling the conversations end.

"So….tomorrow it is."

Everyone nodded in reply to the Englishman.

"Good, now it is obvious that Francis, Matthew and I must make the journey to America, but are any of the rest of you willing to try and fix this mess?"

Japan quietly raised his hand, "I am, England-san. America-san is my friend too. I will do whatever I can to redeem myself."

Sealand also raised a palm, "I've never been to Al's house, and if it'll get my video game buddy back, I'm in!"

"Thank you both," Arthur said. He turned to Sealand for a second, "Peter, you do realize this isn't a play date, right? We're going for national security business. The world is at stake."

The micro-nations eyes welled up slightly, "I know….but I like America, and I want him to be happy again. Plus, I'm part of the world too, aren't I, Iggy?"

The older Kirkland smiled sadly, placing a calloused hand on his youngest brother's head, "Yes, Peter, you are. And you're welcome to come help us tomorrow."

Matthew took the floor, leaving Kumajirou in his seat, and addressed the rest of them, "Alright, that's five of us. Anyone else up for it? We won't think less of you if you aren't."

Surprisingly, Russia raised a hand, "Da, I will go."

"But…you two hate each other."

The large man blinked, "Nyet, little one. We are merely playmates. Amerika is the only one to ever match me, and I would hate to lose such a good opponent. And, much like the rest of you, I really would not like to go boom."

The Canadian smiled back, "If that's how you two play, never invite me over for game night. But, I suppose it's legitimate enough. Last call you guys."

When no one else volunteered, Germany called the meeting to an end. Everyone but the small party of six left the room. They stood, gathered together with a single goal in mind.

Get to the United States.

This was going to end, and it was going to end soon.

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><p>AN: Okay, I know it sounds like I'm dragging shit out, but I promise I'm not. This is all on purpose. Next chapter will get back to Iggy's dream, and America gets a shower scene. That's all you really get to know :3 bye bye.<p> 


	9. Vindicated

AN: Sorry for the wait, guys. The chapter I had planned proved harder to write than I originally thought. It doesn't help that school started. So, as an apology, here's a small update. And I mean _small_. This is really more of a filler than anything else, but I figured you lot at least deserved that shower scene before my head explodes (:

* * *

><p>Light broke through the blinds, past the navy curtains, and into the bedroom. It illuminated the occupant's face, outlining his near perfect features.<p>

It also showed his pained expression as he stirred.

"Son of a bitch…"

The first thing Alfred noticed when he was conscious enough to think was that he felt dirty. And not just on the outside.

With drudging footsteps, Alfred made his way to the bathroom. Once past the door, the young man stopped to assess the damage in his mirror.

What he saw disgusted him.

The once full face was sunken in slightly, cheeks marred with a crimson tinge. His ocean blue eyes laced with gray and age. His firm muscles sagging ever so slightly, but pulled tight with stress. The only normalcy that remained was the bronze tan he had acquired from too many days playing outside.

Somehow though, the color only made things look more depressing.

Alfred growled deep within his throat. If he had been anyone else, the glass would have been ripped from its hooks and thrown as far as he could manage. But the young nation wasn't anyone else. Instead, he simply turned his back to the offending accessory and began to draw water from the faucet for a much needed cleansing; stripping as he waited for it to achieve an ideal temperature.

Stepping in a few minutes later, Alfred sighed as the water ran down his body, engulfing the tense muscles as it worked its way off of him in small, translucent rivers. It seemed that even in the comforts of his shower the American couldn't relax for at least a little while.

They were coming today. Coming to try and stop him. But all he wanted to do was clean himself, maybe grab some lunch, and just sink into the confines of his couch with a good, violent, zombie filled video game and a cold beer.

Running a hand through the wheat colored locks threatening to cling to his forehead, the young man began to talk to his self, doubt infecting his mental processes.

"What's wrong with me? I love those guys…so why do I keep wanting to hurt them…?"

Something darkened in Alfred's ocean blue eyes, "No..I _loved _them. That was a long time ago. They hurt me first. And now they're on the way to hurt me again."

He stared into the water beating down on him, not caring about the irritation it gave.

"I just had to go and invite them over. Bah! But it's just Arthur…maybe with Matt and Francis at the most, what's the worst that could happen?" He punched the wall, wincing when the tiles cracked beneath his fist.

"They could have me committed, strip me of my superpower status, they could go as fucking far as to try and take me down. That's what. No…I need to stay positive. I'm the United States of America, damn it all; I can take those three pussies."

Alfred reached for a bar of soap and smiled sadly into the steam that engulfed him, before rubbing the soft lather over his chest, then working it up and down along his frame.

"But…what if I can't? Heroes don't get taken alive. It just doesn't work that way. I refuse to lose this battle."

For a brief moment, his thoughts shifted to _other_ options. None of them were very appealing, but they were the easiest. Come time, Alfred knew he'd have to make a choice.

He just wished he wouldn't.

He had known from the beginning that easy was a last resort, and a cowardly one at that, but still, something inside the American couldn't help but wonder why he didn't stop this before it began. That way none of this pain would exist, and everyone could go about his or her business in time.

Including him.

Pushing the thought to the back of his head, Alfred began to finish his shower, massaging out the kinks in his tired body and rinsing the grime from his hair before deciding that it was a futile effort and simply standing in the spray, his weary head resting on the wall, and letting it wash his worries down the drain beneath him.

What seemed like an eternity later, the chime of a bell woke the young man from his vacant thoughts. Cautiously, as too avoid slipping, Alfred stepped from the tub and wrapped a towel around his waist.

It was time to go meet his makers.

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><p>AN: Yes, the mega descriptiveness was so I could have a higher word count. Shut up XD. But I thought it was a nice touch, none the less. I'll try to get the big important chapter up soon. TEoaE is almost done, y'all! Can you believe it?<p> 


	10. The Memory Remains

AN: Yay! Kinda long chapter! Okay so, this chapter and the next were going to be the same one, but I changed my mind. I'm a woman, it's allowed. Anyway, just so you know, this takes place while Al's in the shower. It's everyone else's view. Mainly Sealand's though, cause I thought the innocentness would make a good basis for the chapter. Enjoy!

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><p>Arthur stared listlessly out of the car window. He had had the dream again last night. The first time it happened, the old nation had merely been worried that it was a metaphor for America's inner turmoil, but now, he realized just how literal the threat was. The superpower was hurting, and everyone, including himself, was in danger. As the Brit's mind wandered to the carnage of his nightmare, he almost missed the gentle touch of his youngest brother trying to get his attention.<p>

"Hey, England…"

Blinking, the elder turned his hooded gaze to the small fort.

"What is it, Peter?"

Sealand's own eyes where wide, "I'm scared."

"Of what, lad?"

A small sniffle.

"That we won't be able to fix Al. What if he turns us away?"

Arthur's face softened, "I'm sure we can do something about him. It'll be alright."

The boy shook his head, "I saw how he was at the meeting. Al isn't like that," watery blue met tired green, "It's not right. What's wrong with Al, Arthur?"

For once, the ex-pirate didn't know how to answer. He turned to Francis, who had been listening quietly, and searched for a clue. The taller man simply shrugged. Sighing, Arthur patted the micro-nation's shoulder and turned back to the window.

At first, Peter thought he was being ignored, but then a soft, childish voice spoke to him.

"Little Amerika is sick. That is the best way to describe it. We are going to go cure him."

Peter turned to the tall nation, trying not to show his nervousness towards the powerful man.

"C-cure? Like, with medicine?"

A nod.

"Da. Like with medicine. But instead of pills or liquids, we are going to talk to him. Make him happy again."

"O-oh. Okay…Hey, Ivan?"

"Da, little one?"

"What's it like to fight against Al?"

The Russian giggled, "Why do you ask?"

The boy twiddled his thumbs, blushing, "I, um, I'm just curious."

Arthur's voice interrupted momentarily, "America is his hero. He wants to hear stories."

Ivan nodded to the island, "I see," he turned back to Peter, "Amerika is…different…in battle….harder to recognize."

"What do you mean?"

Another giggle, "I am not sure of the English phrase. He is not like you normally see him. He is cunning, merciless, some would even say scary. Much like you have seen of him lately."

"So, he has another side when he's fighting?"

"You could say that."

Peter sniffled again, looking at the floor of the car, "I don't like that side."

Matthew's whisper-like voice stirred from the driver's seat, "None of us do, kid. It's one thing when it's in a war; it's another when it's out of the blue."

Kiku nodded in agreement, "America-san can be very intimidating when he wants too."

"Da. Even I must admit it."

Peter listened to the three older nations discuss his friend in murmurs, but he soon found himself worried about something else.

"England…?"

The older Kirkland jumped in his seat, obviously startled out of his daydreaming.

"Yes? What now, boy?"

"Are you okay?"

Arthur stared, "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

Francis's thick accent interrupted, "Don't be that way, _mon cher._ Even before the meeting started I saw the worry on your petite face. You've known something since the beginning, haven't you?"

The island nation glared, "Shut up Frog. I simply had a bad feeling concerning the boy…that's all."

"Non, you know Amerique the second best out of anyone, save for dear Canada. You _knew_ Alfred was in trouble, didn't you?"

Arthur shut his eyes tight, "It was just a stupid dream I had. My imagination. The fact that it was right was merely a coincidence."

France's blue eyes narrowed, but he refrained from saying anything more. His lover was worried about the ex-colony, and pushing that wouldn't do any good. No matter how fun it was.

Sealand looked between the two blonds. He didn't understand much of what they were saying, but he didn't really care. He just wanted everything to be alright again.

The rest of the car ride was spent in heavy silence. No one bothered to make a noise until once again Matthew spoke up.

"We're here."

Everyone looked out the window expectantly. Indeed, they were pulling up to Alfred's home. It looked no different than any of them remembered; flower beds still aligned the front walk, the grass was still neatly cut, and America's childhood swing still hung from the old tree in the yard. Even the crack in the porch where Al had slipped on the ice and fallen last Christmas remained. It was all exactly the same.

But it felt completely foreign.

One by one, the small group filed from the car, with Peter running ahead. He seemed to have totally forgotten his earlier worries, but the same couldn't be said for the other five nations.

Each one of them was weighed down by the dark shadow that seemed to linger over the property. Cautiously, they followed behind the micro-nation, coming to a halt just off the front step.

"England-san," Japan said, "Do…do you think this was a good idea?"

Arthur didn't dare acknowledge him. It would be too hard.

All six of them held their breath as Peter rang the doorbell, then ran to hide behind his brother. After a moment, footsteps and a brief shout of "I'm comin'!" were heard. Soon, the door opened, revealing America in nothing more than a pair of ragged jeans, dripping slightly, and a soft towel wrapped around his neck.

England couldn't help but notice how thin the boy looked.

Noticing the other's silent stares, Alfred frowned and raised a single blond eyebrow, "What? You ain't seen a guy fresh out of the shower before?"

The group just muttered a small apology.

Rolling his eyes, the American invited them inside.

Everyone followed quickly, still not daring to make a sound. Once they reached the living room, Alfred told them to take a seat, and he'd be right back.

Even Russia did as told and found a spot to rest.

Sometime later, America returned, sporting his usual bomber jacket, t-shirt, and jeans. His spectacled eyes traced each of their forms before he spoke with a neutral face.

"So…we gonna get this over with or what? I got shit to take care of.

* * *

><p>AN: Only. One. Chapter. Left! This saddens me. Means my little project here is almost over. Anyway, I'll see you lot next time. I'm out of crap to say. :D<p> 


	11. À Tout Le Monde

AN: OHMYSHITFUCK I'm so sorry I left you guys hanging for a month :( Real life decided to get in the way. But I won't get into that. Anyway, too make up for it, this chapter is the longest one yet, as well as my personal favorite. Also, it makes me feel like a really bad person. You'll see why.

* * *

><p>No one was really sure how long the seven of them sat in silence, but the six visitors could equally express the tension in the room as Alfred stared them down from his seat on the couch.<p>

"So...you guys came to talk and now you're all mute. Typical."

Matthew, whom was seated next to his brother, wrapped an arm around the elder's broad shoulders, "I…We…Everyone's worried about you, Al."

"So I've heard."

The others sighed. It was obvious that America wasn't in the best of moods, which, given the last twenty four hours, should have been obvious.

"Lad, please," Arthur tried, "We just want to help you. Hasn't that been said enough?"

The younger blond laughed, "Sorry, dude, but I just have a hard time believing y'all."

"Why is that Amerika?"

Alfred stopped laughing and glared over the rim of his glasses, "You, out of all people, really want me to answer that?"

Ivan fell silent once more. He knew it was a legitimate question.

Kiku spoke next, "He did not mean it that way, Alfred-san. He cares just as much as the rest of us."

Alfred just laughed again; louder this time.

"This is not funny _Amerique_! Stop this before you hurt someone!"

Alfred's blue eyes rolled, "Oh you're just worried I'll shove a Colt up your nose again. Besides, it's too late for that."

Sealand, who had been diligently watching from his seat on the floor, crawled over to his idol's side, and gently pulled on a leg of the superpower's jeans.

"What do you mean? Al quit it! I want the old you back! The Hero you!"

The American looked down at the boy sitting before him, "Sorry, Short Stuff, but that me is long gone. Heroes make too many enemies to stick around."

As Peter's eyes widened, England briefly thought he heard a familiar, ghostly, voice crying out.

"_We don't like to be sad, Arthur."_

As his blood chilled, the old pirate almost didn't notice Alfred get up.

"Al!" Matthew hollered, "Where are you going now?"

"Calm down, Favorite. If you really want to know, then feel free to follow."

The Canadian did as told, and rose next to his twin. Out of curiosity, the others came as well. In silence, the small group walked to a previously unnoticed room of the house. It was entirely metal, from the ceiling, to the floorboards. On the farthest wall was a large computer screen.

"Alfred Foster Jones, what is all this?" Arthur questioned. Though his words were accusing, his tone was fearful.

Ignoring the use of his full name, Alfred smiled, "This, dear Arthur, is my special little bunker," he gestured to the panel below the screen, "And those are my special little buttons that cue my special little missiles to nuke your oh-so-special little butts. One click and bada bing bada, well, BOOM!"

The giggle that he emitted after finishing couldn't have been more terrifying.

"W-why do you have this, America-san?" Kiku stuttered. He couldn't look away from his friend's deranged smile.

"Why not, Nihon? They're shiny and they make bad people go away."

The nineteen year old moved again, this time to approach the console.

"Have you lost your fucking mind, bro?"

Alfred stopped, and looked over his shoulder, smiling sadly.

"Swearing doesn't become you, Matthew. And as you and everyone else have so eloquently pointed out in the past, I don't think, and therefore possibly couldn't possess a brain. You can't lose what you never had, now can you?"

The six foreigners paled considerably as he pushed a single button.

"_**MISSILE LAUNCH SEQUENCE ACTIVATED. T minus 30 seconds and counting." **_a computer voice announced.

"ALFRED WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" Francis screamed.

The American just looked at the older nation sadly.

"_**20" **_the computer read out.

Alfred looked to the screen and smiled, "Nothing at all, Frenchy. Nothing at all."

Before deciding on his next action, the young man looked out over those who had come to try and save him. He took in everything about them, their huddled forms, their wide eyes, and their frightened expressions.

"_**10 seconds"**_

"Fuck," he swore.

Quickly, the American pulled out a small caliber pistol. Then, he shot the computer, thus ending the countdown.

"A-Al?" Sealand whimpered.

The tall blond groaned, "Dammit, Peter, I may not be a hero anymore, but I'm still not villain enough to kill my family. Or my friend. Shit, I can't even kill that stupid commie, let alone a kid like you."

The other's faces lit up with hope. There was still some of the old America in there somewhere.

"But I still can't let you ass holes take me. It's over, but I ain't done yet."

Ivan felt his heart race speed up, "What are you talking about, you fool?"

Running a hand over his gun before biting down on the barrel and allowing his tired blue eyes to travel a last time over those who had done this too him, Alfred muttered a bitter, muffled, phrase.

"I'll see you all in hell."

Then, he pulled the trigger.

As the others yelled out, Arthur was quick to grab Peter and shield him from the bloodshed, but the fort was stubborn, and wriggled free.

He managed to turn around just as Alfred's body fell.

Silence was all the young nation knew. He took a second to look between the others. What he saw was the same, broken expression amongst them. Then, he turned to Alfred.

His hero's mouth was still wrapped gently around the gun barrel, glasses askew from the impact. The color was already draining from his once bright form.

Peter just didn't understand.

The older five nations tried to reach for the boy as he walked over to the American's side, but none of them were able to move.

"A-Al…Are you okay?" Gently, the child prodded his idol's cheek, begging him to wake up.

Alfred didn't even twitch.

Peter pulled his hand back, and upon looking at it, saw the blood.

The poor thing had never screamed so loud in his life.

Seeing the other men frozen to their spots, Ivan was forced to make the move. Swiftly, he ran over to the traumatized micronation, and quickly wrapped him in his large coat.

He couldn't help but let a few tears fall as he closed Alfred's cold blue eyes.

"Sleep well, comrade."

Suddenly, a soft gust of wind blew past the large Russian. When he looked up, he saw Matthew running for his brother's body, sobbing, with Francis hot on his heels.

"_Matthieu, non! Ne regardez pas!"_

"Alfred! Alfred! Wake up! You can't die! It's okay! Just please, _frère_, wake up!"

Alfred just continued to lay there, motionless.

Kiku usually wasn't a man of emotion, but even he couldn't hold back a shuddered cry as he watched everything quietly ; America's lifeless body bleeding into the cracks in the floor, Ivan holding a still screaming Peter, France dragging a hysterical Matthew away from the corpse and Arthur…

Where was Arthur?

The stoic Jap looked around for the ex-pirate, but the Brit was nowhere to be seen.

"E-excuse me, but where is England-san?"

The others looked up with red rimmed eyes, each seemingly pondering the question or themselves.

"I haven't heard or seen him since he grabbed me…" Sealand whispered.

Canada hiccupped, "M-maybe we should go look for him," his indigo gaze traveled to Alfred for brief moment, "Anything to get away from here."

The others contemplated it for a moment. Partially, they knew they needed to stay and take care of their fallen ally, but also, they wanted to make sure that Arthur didn't hurt himself in his grief.

They decided to take care of the living. He needed them more now.

Slowly, everyone made to stand, with Francis taking a moment to cover the body, before heading out on their search.

Eventually, they found Arthur outside, sitting in Alfred's swing, and staring at the ground below his feet. The Brit's lips moved rhythmically, and the rest of the small group had to lean in close to understand him.

Over and over again, all they could hear him say was a simple phrase.

"It wasn't supposed to end this way…"

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><p>AN: *hiding behind Russia* DON'T KILL ME. But did you guys REALLY expect a happy ending for this fic? Anyway, special thanks to my beta Trisl and super fan A Mi E's Sonata. That girl not only sent me pm after pm, but also wrote a side fic based on this story. You should go read it on her profile. :D Hell, thank you to EVERYONE that reviewed, faved, and added alerts. I was not expecting such a following for this. *wipes happy tear*<p>

So, even though it's "over", you guys'll notice that there isn't a "completed" stamp just yet. Wanna know why? I DECIDED TO DO AN EPILOGUE. It should be up before Halloween. Promise.

Translation for Francis: "Matthew, no! Don't look!"


	12. My Immortal

AN: Told you guys I'd have this up before Halloween! Where ya worried? ;D Anyway, here you have it, my dears: the last installment of "The End of an Error". It so wasn't supposed to be this long, but I guess the extra length is just a gift to all of you for being such amazing readers. Now go! READ.

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><p>Everything changed after Alfred died. Though the world had attended his funeral, no one could really believe that their loudmouth young friend was gone. Most of the nations, even a couple who had seen it happen, tried to continue life as normal as they could, but the differences were painful to watch in some.<p>

Matthew, though getting noticed more, was further withdrawn and soft spoken. Instead, he actually **tried** to be invisible.

Peter, without his hero, no longer wished to become a great nation. All his attention was focused on erasing the memory of Alfred's bloody form from his mind.

Francis hadn't molested anyone since they buried the body. He had made attempts on occasion, but the others could tell his heart wasn't in it. He just felt too guilty.

Arthur took the American's passing the worst. Over and over again the blond blamed himself, saying he should have paid better attention to his instincts, the signs, and especially his foreboding dream. Everyone told the Brit that it wasn't his fault; that Alfred was a troubled boy, but it was no use.

Every chance England got, he would go to Alfred's grave and sit, stroking the letters on the headstone as if to make sure they were real. It was on one such day that he got a surprise.

The old pirate was crying softly, talking to the marble slab, "It wasn't supposed to end this way, lad. I'm so sorry. Why didn't you tell anyone sooner? We could have helped you….we could have _saved_ you."

"_Arthur?"_

"You and your bloody hero nonsense, never asking for help…."

"_Arthur…"_

"Why, Alfred? Just…why?"

"_ARTHUR!"_

The sobbing nation jumped, overcome by a familiar presence.

"Who's there?" he asked.

"_It's me, silly!"_

Arthur froze; face going ashen, "No…."

"_Why 'no', Iggy?"_

As he turned around, Arthur didn't want to believe his eyes. There, in front of him, just like that day in his hotel room, was a small, ghostly, version of colony sized Alfred.

And he was giggling.

As fast as his wobbly legs could move, the British man backed away from the tiny apparition, screaming.

"You aren't supposed to be here! You're dead! I watched it happen myself! You. Are. Dead."

Even the great United Kingdom of Great Britain and North Ireland, with his entire "magical" prowess, didn't fully believe in ghosts. They said that these spirits sometimes came back due to unfinished business, but hadn't Alfred finished and said everything that needed to be done?

"You shouldn't be here."

"Why?"

"BECAUSE DEAD THINGS USUALLY STAY DEAD, ALFRED."

The child didn't move, instead he looked away and sniffled. At first Arthur thought that the small drops of water he heard hitting the ground were rain. But when he looked closer, the older man found that it was tears that were hitting the uncut grass.

Suddenly, Arthur felt like an ass. He hadn't meant to yell at the ghost-boy, but Alfred had scared him. Gently, he knelt down to console the crying child, but stopped when his hand went through the other's shoulder.

"A-Alfred, lad, please. Stop crying."

A tiny hiccup, "I'm sorry, Iggy."

The nation blinked, "Whatever for?"

"For making everyone sad. I didn't mean too. Big Me just hurt so bad…"

Arthur smiled softly, "I told you before, lad, Big You could have come to someone."

"Tried…" he wiped his little eyes.

The island sighed, "You daft child."

"Big Me or me me?"

"Both of you. Now tell me, why are you here," he gestured wildly, "like this?"

The ghost's blue eyes lit up with information, and he began to hop from one floating foot to another, "Because! Because!"

Arthur laughed, he hadn't seen his ex-colony this excited about anything in a long time, and figured he never would again. It was almost a refreshing sight.

"Because tells me nothing, boy. And stop fidgeting."

Alfred did as told, small mouth forming a surprised 'O' shape.

"Sorry, Big Brother! I'm here because I wanted to tell you everything's gonna be okay! Really!"

Arthur felt like crying himself now, of course this little bundle of energy before him would say such a thing. It was just like him.

"No, Alfy, it's not."

"Yeah huh!"

"No."

"Yes!"

"How? You're gone. Nothing is okay about that."

The child sighed, looking years older than his boyish face was supposed to. With great effort, he forced himself tangible enough to grasp the taller man's cheeks with his pudgy hands. Arthur stared as the grip became firmer and firmer, until solid hands were holding his face with strength he had almost forgotten about.

"Listen to me, Arthur," by now the entity was growing, morphing. Before long he was no longer a five year old with a squeaky voice. Instead, he was nineteen again, still baby-faced, but a man.

"A-Alfred…"

"Listen to me. It's going to be okay because you and the others are going to move on. I hear what you say every time you come to visit, and I have a few things to say in response. One, nothing is your fault. So shut up. Two it _was_ supposed to end this way. Someone had to die, and because it wasn't you, it was me. Deal with it. Three, no, you _couldn't_ have saved me. Two hundred and fifty years of mental problems don't go away with a couple trips to a shrink. But you might want to get Sealand to one soon. Just sayin'. And finally, four, if you shed one more stupid tear I swear to Ronald McDonald I will haunt you for the rest of eternity and make all your tea and scones fucking taste like coffee and burgers."

The living nation stared, "It's not that easy, Alfred. An empire isn't supposed to bury his colony. A big brother isn't supposed to bury his younger brother. I wasn't supposed to outlive you."

Alfred laughed that beautiful, rich, laughter that the older man had missed so much, "We're nations, dude, we're supposed to outlive everything. I pulled a loophole." He shrugged, "And, technically, ya didn't. America's still goin'."

"But you're not."

The spectacled boy groaned in frustration, "No. I'm not. But that's beside the point!"

"No, lad, it isn't. We made a grave error hurting you like this, and we can't just put that aside."

Alfred stomped his foot much like a child would, "Shit, bro, you're just not gonna make this easy for me, are you?"

Arthur couldn't help but let a small smile slip, "Just returning the favor."

"Oh shut up. Look, don't think of this as an _ending_," Alfred's words were becoming distant, and his body was starting to fade.

He was leaving again.

"Then what am I supposed to think of it a-…Where are you going?" Arthur reached for the other, but before he could make content, Alfred was gone, but not before a small breeze carried a final message to his old ears.

"_Think of it as a _beginning_…"_

The small man tried as hard as he could to not let any more tears fall (he knew Alfred's threat would be held true) and he stood there a moment. After a while he felt his face grow wet anyway. Looking up, Arthur made a sad realization as he smiled into the sky.

It really was raining now.

* * *

><p>AN: *sniffles* It's really over, y'all. Can you believe it? It's rather bittersweet, no? I've never spent so long on a story before. TEoaE was my baby, man. But enough about that. What'd you think? Enough angst for one fic? Baha. I counted, you know. This marks the third time I've killed Al, and the second time I've had his ghost console a loved one. I can't thank you all enough for your reviews, alerts, faves, and any other form of support. Until next time, I bid thee goodbye~<p>

Erika


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